Gervonta Davis blasts away Ricardo Nunez with Tevin Farmer next in his sights – but he has time on his side

On Saturday night, Gervonta Davis received a hero’s welcome as he slowly made his way to the prize ring at Baltimore’s Royal Farms Arena, for the latest defence of his world title. It hasn’t always been that way.

Davis, despite being just 24-years-old, is already a two-time super featherweight world champion. He is the youngest reigning American world champion. He has stopped 21 of his 22 unfortunate opponents, often spectacularly, and has been heralded by none other than Floyd Mayweather Jr. as “the future of boxing”. His nickname is ‘Tank’.

It is a good nickname. It is also an incredibly fortunate one. Davis did not earn it through his pugilistic prowess but because, when he first sought refuge from Baltimore’s drug-addled back alleys in the boxing gym, “I was little with a big-ole head”. At that point, the grizzled vets training at the Upton Boxing Centre did not expect the 5-year-old kid with a shy smile and huge bonce to become one of the best boxers in the world, blasting through his rivals like an M4 Sherman through scattered infantry. Yet sometimes fairytales come true. That is exactly what happened.

All things considered: Davis should be a very popular young man. But outside of his home state, he’s not.

There are a few reasons for this. It doesn’t help that he has been arrested twice: the first time for first-degree aggravated assault, the second for disorderly conduct after he became embroiled in a street fight. And then there is the company he keeps. Outside of the ring, he is part of an entourage that includes both his divisive mentor, Mayweather, as well as Adrien Broner, a man so universally despised that even Donald Trump would think twice before inviting him to the White House. Inside of the ring he has fought too many low-calibre opponents for a fighter of his quality. He is therefore developing an unwanted reputation as a shirker: a man studiously averting the biggest threats his division has to offer. It is the gravest insult that could possibly be levelled at a professional boxer.

It is a harsh criticism of a man in his early twenties, still learning on the job. It is also not entirely true. The critics are always quick to forget that, back in 2017, Davis fought and stopped the previously undefeated José Pedraza, who last December stretched unified lightweight champion Vasyl Lomachenko a full twelve rounds. Lomachenko, a sporting extra-terrestrial with the feet of Carlos Acosta and the fists of Carlos Takam, could not finish Pedraza despite putting him on his arse twice. Davis managed it in seven, with a decidedly NSFW right hook that sent him staggering backwards into the ring ropes with the gracelessness of a red-nosed drunk being pushed out the pub door. (That he did so at a lower weight than Lomachenko is even more impressive.)

His latest victim was a man named Ricardo Núñez, the second best super featherweight in Panama who styles himself as El Cientifico. Núñez had won 21 of his previous 23 fights — 19 by way of knockout — and would beat both you and I into a coma without breaking a sweat. But against Davis he could withstand only four minutes and 33 seconds before he collapsed into the ropes, gasping for oxygen like a fish on a hook, a self-anointed scientist brutally schooled in the sweet science.

Núñez actually started the first round on the front foot. He fought in exactly the style you would expect from a spry smaller fighter: stepping in, flicking out a steady stream of Pop Rocks punches, hopping back, sidestepping across, cutting off the ring. He was fast, accurate and brave: three essential qualities for a pressure boxer. He was also smart and mildly surprised Davis by landing a whiplash counter over his right jab just before the bell. Were it not for the hard body shots ripped into his taut body whenever his thin arms were whizzed forwards, he would have taken the first in enemy territory.

But it all went wrong in the second round. The last round. Núñez, who had started so well, thought he had Davis safely wrapped up after catching a ridiculously overcooked left hook. He hadn’t. Davis, who had concentrated on working the body early on and was in absolutely no rush for the knockout, immediately recognised his opportunity. Like any great predator, he sensed blood. He smashed a hurtful left hook over Núñez’s bony shoulder and into his chin, pursuing his teetering frame with more left hands that landed with the regularity of artillery fire. Boom. Boom. BOOM. A shattered Núñez began to sink sadly towards his fate and — just like that — the fight was over. Cheers for coming over, Ricardo. The hospital is over on Orleans Street. Your cheque is in the post.

Once a shell-shocked Núñez had been unceremoniously booted out of the ring so as to accommodate the teeming hordes of microphones, media men and managers, Davis completed his evening’s work by calling out the reigning IBF 130-pound champion, Tevin Farmer. “I want Tevin in my next fight,” Davis said in his surprisingly soft voice. “That fight can be made. So let’s get it on later this year.” Later that night, 1400 miles away in Arlington, Farmer replied after outpointing the reliable but unremarkable Frenchman Guillaume Frenois. “They keep making excuses. If it happens it happens. If it don’t, I don’t give a damn.” It was on – possibly.

Mayweather was quick to label the potential unification clash as “our first stop at pay-per-view”. That’s understandable. It certainly has the necessary ingredients to be one hell of a fight: with genuine antipathy between the two men to lure a casual audience into reaching for their wallets, as well as an intriguing clash of styles to appeal to those hardcore nuts who have been clamouring for this fight for a while now. Davis is thrillingly offensive. Farmer is scrupulously defensive. Let’s get it on.

It is also the perfect fight for Davis at this stage of his career. There is no rush to move up the weight classes, or to take on the freakish Lomachenko while he is in his alien pomp. Let those challenges wait. Especially when defeating Farmer and unifying the super featherweight division – at 24! – should prove enough for him to finally begin broadening his appeal beyond the hard streets of Baltimore.